AntiPyschotics
by AssasinNinja
Summary: When Arnold is diagnosed with mental instability, turns out all those day-dreams were more than just his imagination, will Helga find it in herself to confess? Stay tuned...
1. Chapter 1

**A one shot for now. Let me know what you think. Enjoy**

"I am the outlaw

Who dies in the clock tower

And on the subway

And occasionally,

on the last train out of town."

A few of Arnold's classmates clapped, the rest remained in their transfixed states of boredom. Harold's drool was atypically thick and viscous today... like a waterfall. Then Arnold was gone, his body once again a slave to the visions of the mind. He was in the jungle, clad in a leather jacket and a fedora, a bullwhip and a satchel hanging at his side, a thick bush knife in his hand. A snake dropped from the canopy, its jaw wide, it's tongue a bright shade of red.

He grabbed the snake by the neck and threw it out of his way, it landed on the ground and slithered away. He trekked on, hacking at limbs and vines with the bush knife, climbing over rocks and fallen trees, until he finally reached his destination. A giant waterfall stood before him.

It was in the shape of the head of a large child, and water cascaded between the jagged rocks that resembled teeth. A rainbow formed on the rock child's lip, and Arnold stood in awe of the beauty.

Then suddenly, the ground around him began to shake. Arnold looked around rapidly in panic, but could not find the source of the tremors. He threw himself to the ground, and covered his head with his arms.

Then, he heard rocks cracking. Looking up slowly, he discovered the source of the earthquake. The waterfall's head was closing, spraying water in every directions as the teeth clamped together.

Then, to Arnold's utter horror, the rock face smiled.

"Arnold?" Harold's voice rang in Arnold's ear.

Arnold looked up slowly, discovering to his extreme embarrassment that he was lying on the floor, covering his head with his arms.

"What's wrong Arnold? HAHAHAHA!" Harold taunted Arnold in that baby voice the boy so despised. Arnold didn't know what to say, the whole class was laughing at him, even Gerald. Well Helga wasn't laughing at him. To Arnold's shock, she almost looked sad.

The laughter went on and on, it seemed like it would never end. Arnold felt about ready to cry, but then Mr. Simmons came to his rescue.

"Arnold would you please come with me?" Arnold didn't have a choice. Mr. Simmons grabbed him by the arm, and soon they were standing in the hallway.

Mr. Simmons shut the door behind them.

* * *

"I'm sorry Phil," Mr. Simmons said to Arnold's grandpa, "But the hallucinations are getting worse and worse... for the boy's sake, I refuse to have him in my classroom until he is diagnosed."

Arnold barely heard the rest of the conversation through his bedroom floor, but he got the gist of it. Something was wrong with him. Something serious.

Arnold thought back to when it all began. He had always been a day-dreamer, and his imagination had always been quite vivid... but up until recently they had stayed separate from reality.

Sure, occasionally it would take more than Helga's yelling or Gerald's polite elbow to knock him loose from his imagination, but that's what it had always been, just his imagination.

A few months ago, he found himself throwing a base-ball bat like a tomahawk at Eugene, putting the boy (albeit unsurprisingly) in the hospital. His friends shrugged that off, Eugene was a glutton for punishment anyway.

But things got worse...

It was getting to the point where he couldn't go a whole day without attacking someone, or arguing with street lights, or what have you. Where once he had pretended to be crazy, all his friends thought it to be true now.

Maybe they were right, maybe he was crazy. He left the floor and hurriedly slid into bed. He had heard his grandpa's slow footsteps ascend the stairs.

"You awake short-man?" Arnold contemplated not answering. He thought about just pretending to be asleep, facing whatever dark news his grandpa surely bore tomorrow.

But inside he knew he couldn't do that.

"Yeah..." He uttered softly. The stairs dropped slowly, and his grandpa climbed into his room.

"How's it going pal?" There was no humor in Grandpa's voice. The healthy old man rested his laurels on the end of Arnold's bed. Rubbing his hands across his thighs, he seemed to be thinking about what to say.

"Listen, Arnold... I was talking to your teacher... and well..." He cleared his throat, "How do I put this? Mr. Simmons thinks that there is something, well something off with you... so tomorrow I'm going to take you to the doctor, and get you um, diagnosed."

For a few moments, nothing but solid silence passed between the two. Then finally, Arnold spoke.

"Alright..." Then he began to cry, and from under the covers, he threw himself at his grandfather, "I'm so scared Grandpa."

Phil wrapped his arms around his tender youth.

"Shhh, it's okay Arnold..."

The old man stared up into the starry night sky.

"It's going to be okay..."

* * *

Helga G. Pataki sat on her bed, looking out into the starry night. Several things were seriously bugging her this evening, and try as she might she could not sleep through them.

Her first dilemma was Arnold's poem.

As a proud patron of prose, and being a poet herself, she was fascinated with the simplicity yet depth of Arnold's poem. It had taken her years of practice to construct a poem of that caliber and here Arnold had done it in a matter of hours, with only the teachings of the less than stunning Mr. Simmons as a guide.

He knew nothing of the great works of Shakespeare, of Frost, of Ginsberg! Yet he was able to create something that tugged at the very core of Helga's soul. It seemed to be a poem written specifically for her.

It was obvious what it had all meant, and it had only taken Helga a few minutes of dissection to realize it.

"I am the outlaw, who dies in the clock tower, and on the subway, and on the occasional last train out of town." She repeated to herself softly. In four lines, Arnold told a story. Here was a woman/man, who always plays the bad guy, they have no choice. They are doomed to fail, doomed to die.

And although they always lose, sometimes they get so close to escaping their fate, so close to leaving the town and all the bad memories behind, that it almost redeems them. But they know they can never leave and that almost escaping is enough for them, enough for eternity.

She was the outlaw, the bully, and although she constantly berates Arnold and puts him down... she has died on the train more than once.

And for now, being there for Arnold... being a silent protector, was enough for her.

Which brought her to the other dilemma: what had happened in class today. Rolling over on her soft bed, she faced the ceiling of endless off-white. Helga had been watching Arnold carefully over the past few months, ever since the incident with Eugene. He was losing contact with reality, something wasn't right in that cute little football-shaped head of his.

Today in class, he had snapped. Lost it again, in front of everyone. One minute he was reciting his beautiful poem, the next he was swinging one arm as if he held a sword in it. Then he looked around, visibly frightened... then he threw himself on the ground at Harold's feet.

The whole class had erupted in laughter, and Helga could do nothing to protect her beloved.

No, that was a lie. She could've stood up and rushed to his side. She might've squeezed him tight in a warming hug. She should have at least yelled at Harold for starting the whole thing... but that would mean cracking her shell, and revealing at least some of her many feelings for Arnold.

She blinked her eyes, but blinking would not wipe the guilt from her brain. She couldn't have both, she couldn't love Arnold if she wouldn't actually do anything for him... in public, where it counted. She had to tell him, she had to tell the world.

But tonight she had to fall asleep, and soon she did.

* * *

Arnold stared hatefully at that little round pill, his little anti-psychotic. The cold porcelain sink beckoned to him, and if not for the fact that his Grandpa stood watching over him, he would've flushed the darn thing down the drain.

"You okay short-man?"

Arnold nodded, and tossed the pill into his mouth. He reached for his glass of water, but by the time the cold fluid filled his mouth, he had already swallowed. He looked up at his grandpa, who nodded at him somberly. The boy took this as permission, and grabbed his backpack.

"I'll see you after school Grandpa."

Arnold left the bathroom, leaving his grandpa staring at the tiled floor. His mind felt numb, almost empty... as if imagining that the stairs were covered in lava wasn't even possible. They were just wood, and soon he opened the door, which was just a door.

He opened the door, and his friend Gerald turned to face him.

"Hey man..." Gerald said softly. Arnold said nothing, and started walking to the bus stop. Gerald followed him.

"Listen Arnold," he said, "I didn't mean to laugh at you yesterday bud... it was just, I was so caught up in the moment..."

"It's okay Gerald." Arnold said, "Seriously, it's cool."

Gerald didn't like the tone of his friend's voice, it seemed hollow, devoid of life.

"You sure man?"

Arnold smiled at Gerald, but Gerald still didn't feel right about the whole thing. Nevertheless, he followed Arnold on to the bus and shortly after, they arrived at school.

* * *

Helga sat anxiously on the steps of P.S. 118, twiddling her thumbs in anticipation. All the confidence, all the resignation had left her. Arnold was getting off the bus now, and she wasn't sure if she could tell him. In fact, she was certain that she couldn't.

"Well if it isn't football-head and tall-hair boy." She said grumpily, earning an eye-roll from Gerald. Harold and the others stopped talking, and walked over from the dumpster where they were standing.

"Hey Arnold... listen, Mr. Simmons told us about you being sick... me and the others, we just wanted to, uh... wanted to-"

"Apologize!" Sid spoke up.

"Yeah," Stinky said, "We are utterly and dearly sorry."

Arnold gave them a half-heated smile.

"It's okay guys..."

The bell rang, and Gerald and the others ran inside, patting Arnold on the back as they passed. Only Helga remained outside with him.

"Hey, Arnoldo?"

"Yeah?" Arnold said.

"What was up with that poem yesterday?"

Arnold thought to himself for a moment.

"Oh yeah, my poem... what about it?" He asked.

"Well, what was it all about? Pretty dopey stuff if you ask me."

"Well Helga," Arnold said calmly, "The poem is about redemption, never ending hope, and triumph over evil."

"It was three lines long, how could it possibly be about all that?" Helga started laughing, and Arnold ascended the steps to go inside. Just before he entered the building, he half turned his head and spoke.

"Huh, you know Helga, for some reason I thought you would understand... guess you just keep on surprising me." The door closed quietly behind him.

"Oh, but I do understand Arnold... I do." She said to herself. She stared at her locket for only a moment, before she too went inside.

* * *

Mr. Simmons stood before the class, holding Arnold's doctor's note in his hand. This was good, he thought to himself, better he be diagnosed then go unprepared through the rest of his life. At least he was being treated, now he could have some semblance of a normal life. He placed the note on his desk.

"Thank you Arnold." The boy nodded and took a seat. "Now class, in continuation with our writing unit, today we are going to write letters to each other."

No one in the class seemed too particularly cheerful at the prospect, but they took out their papers and pencils regardless.

"Now class, I want you to all write a sort of thank you letter. This letter can be to anyone in the classroom, and at the end of class they will be read aloud by the person they are sent to."

"That's stupid," Helga muttered to Phoebe, "I'm just going to write a few words okay? Make me sound like I wrote a book alright?"

"Then they will be turned in for a grade." Mr. Simmons said.

"Well there goes that plan," Helga said, "Alright Phoebes, I guess I'll really have to be nice to you won't I?"

Helga smiled at Phoebe, and she smiled back.

"You have 30 minutes. You may now begin."

In half an hour, all the pencil's stopped moving. Mr. Simmons collected all the letters.

"Alright, now let's see. Sid, here's one for you... why don't you go first?"

Sid shuffled hesitantly to the front of class. Taking the letter from Mr. Simmons, he cleared his throat.

"Um, Dear Sid," He began to recite, "Thanks for the time you bought me an ice-cream sandwich from the Jolly Olly man. Next time I'll have money. I swear. From Gerald."

"That was very well written Gerald. Everybody give Sid and Gerald a round of applause."

The rest of the letters went as expected, the girls mostly thanked each other, and since Gerald had thanked Sid, no one thanked Arnold. Then, immediately after Helga had sat down from reading Phoebe's thank you, she was called to the front of the class again.

"It would seem you have another one Helga." Mr. Simmons held the last thank you letter in the air. Helga shrugged and stood up, feigning utter apathy over this new letter.

Yet, her mind was racing trying to figure out who wrote it.

Taking the letter from her feminine teacher, she cleared her throat before reading.

"Dear Helga," She started strong, "Thanks so much for not... laughing... at me. It means... a lot." She looked up, but Arnold was staring out the window, a sad expression on his face.

"I owe you one... Arnold." Just then the bell rang, and the class cleared out, leaving Mr. Simmons and Helga alone in the room.

"Well they all sure left in a hurry... can you just leave that on my desk Helga? Have a nice recess."

"Um... " She said quietly, "Actually Mr. Simmons, is it okay if I keep this?"

Mr. Simmons looked up from his desk.

"Helga why on earth would you-" Staring into her eyes, and seeing the immense sadness there, he stopped questioning her, "Yeah... you can have it Helga."

"Thank you." Helga hugged her teacher and left the room, leaving Mr. Simmons alone and confused.

* * *

Arnold sat against the dumpster, watching the rest of his classmates play tether ball from a distance. He didn't feel like playing today... he didn't feel like doing anything today. He had only discovered a few minutes ago that he had never taken his back pack off.

Pulling it off his shoulders, he let it slump against the dumpster beside him.

"Arnold?"

Looking up, he saw Helga standing next to him, holding a sheet of paper in her hand.

"Oh, hey Helga." He absentmindedly pulled his backpack into his lap, and unzipped it.

"Um... how are you?"

Arnold gave Helga a strange look before replying.

"I'm fine... why?" He began to push his hands through his backpack, uncertain what he was actually looking for.

"Oh, no reason... I was just wondering."

Again, Arnold gave her a strange look.

"Do you want to sit down?" He asked.

"Um, sure." She said nervously. As she sat down beside him, he pulled a black mole-skin journal from his backpack.

"Huh," He said, "I forgot I had this thing."

"Is that a mole-skin?" She asked.

"Yeah... what do you know about mole-skin?"

Only that the greatest poets, writers, and artists who ever lived used them! She thought to herself.

"I... I have a few." She said.

Arnold nodded and placed the mole-skin on the ground. Reaching deeper into his backpack, he pulled out another mole-skin, this one a bright pink color. Helga's heart all but stopped.

"Forgot I had this too." He flipped through the pages, "Never did figure out who wrote it... if memory serves me, you used the last page as a spitball."

Helga smiled and laughed nervously. Arnold opened to a random page, and read for a moment.

"You know I didn't really want to say it, because the other guys would make fun of me... but these poems are really good." He said before placing the book on the other mole-skin.

"If only I knew who it was..." He said almost to himself.

"What if she is terribly ugly?" Helga asked.

"Well I don't really find any of the girls at our school ugly... and I'm pretty sure one of them wrote it."

Helga's left eye twitched slightly.

"Well what if she was terribly mean?"

"Helga," Arnold said, "Do you really think someone who is mean could've written this?"

The bell rang once more, and the children returned to class, leaving Arnold and Helga alone for a moment.

"I better go Helga," Arnold grabbed his backpack and headed toward the door, "See you inside."

The door closed almost silently behind him.

"Oh Arnold... you and your endless kindness! If only you could see, if only you could see how much I care for you! How much I love you!"

Then she looked down, and noticed that Arnold had left both journals on the ground.

* * *

Arnold sat at his desk, staring out of the window sadly. The world was a far less interesting place without imagination. Then Helga dropped the pink mole-skin on his desk, and he forgot his dilemma.

"You left this outside football-head." Helga took her seat.

"Arnold? You still have that thing?" Gerald asked him, holding back laughter.

"We never did figure out who it was..."

"And we never will" Gerald said sternly, "Just throw the thing away, it's only gonna bug you!"

Arnold nodded, and put the journal in this back pack. Then something occurred to him.

"Helga, where's the other mole-skin?"

"The what?" The girl asked angrily.

"The other journal..."

"I have no clue what you're talking about head-boy. Now leave me alone, or I'll clobber you." Helga turned her attention back toward Mr. Simmons, who began handing back the graded letters.

"Where's my letter Mr. Simmons?" Arnold asked when all the letters had been passed out, and his desk remained empty.

"Well, I'm afraid I uh... lost yours Arnold... You get an A for participation." Mr. Simmons smiled at the boy and sat at his desk. Arnold shrugged it off, and returned his attention to Helga.

Why had she taken the journal? Why had she lied about knowing about it? Arnold scratched his head. If there was one thing he knew, it was that Helga was full of surprises.

* * *

Arnold sat on the stairs to his room. He was wearing his pajamas, but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to go to sleep. In his right hand, he clutched the pink mole-skin. He hadn't been able to throw it away like Gerald said, and it hadn't left his sight since he got home. There was something about the poetry, something that touched him, now in his state of depression, more than ever. He opened it up, to read through it for the third time that day, when the door bell rang.

Knowing that the rest of the boarders were playing bingo, he went down to answer the door for them. Only half-remembering he was in his pajamas.

There was no one at the door, and after waiting a few seconds, Arnold was prepared to go back inside. But then he looked down and saw his black mole-skin lying on the stoop. Smiling, he picked it up and walked back to his room.

Lying on his bed, he opened the mole-skin to take in the beauty of a blank canvas, but to his surprise every page was written on. He stopped, and closed the book. Rubbing his eyes for a moment, he flipped through the book again... every page was covered.

Taking out the pink journal he compared the handwriting... and it was a perfect match.

He turned to the first page of the black mole-skin, and began reading.

He read through it three times before going to sleep.

**Hope you enjoyed it.**


	2. Chapert 2

**I've decided to at least write one more chapter for this story.**

"Hey Arnold. Hey Arnold. Hey Arnold. Hey-"

Arnold angrily shut off his alarm clock. It was a teacher work day, which meant that he could sleep in longer if he wanted, but he had a big day ahead of him regardless. He had lost a lot of sleep reading from the black book of poetry, and he wasn't sure how ready he actually was to go on with what he had planned for the day.

Nevertheless, Carpe diem took hold, and he found himself quickly getting dressed.

With his clothes on and his teeth brushed, he was ready to rush out of the front door, when his grandfather stopped him.

"Hold on Shortman!" Arnold stopped short of the door knob, knowing full well what Grandpa was about to say.

"Did you take your medicine yet?"

Arnold shook his head, and followed his grandfather to the upstairs bathroom, where his little bottle of anti-psychotics waited for him.

"Can I leave now?" Arnold asked after wiping the water from his lips.

"I guess, but wear a jacket, it's getting awfully windy out!"'

Arnold grabbed a light blue jacket from the coat rack before leaving the boarding house. Grandpa was right, the wind was not only fierce, but also chilly. Arnold quickly took of his backpack and placed it on the ground. Putting his arms through the sleeves, he quickly zipped up the coat and pulled the hood over his oddly shaped head. He then put his backpack back on. Arnold began walking down the side-walk, he waved to a scarf-wearing Mr. Green, but the butcher barely recognized him wrapped inside the coat. The Jolly-Olly man's ice-cream truck stood only a few more yards away, and it was his current destination, so Arnold didn't bother stopping too long to chat. As he passed Mr. Green waved goodbye and then returned to the inside of his shop.

Arnold bought a chocolate covered ice cream bar, then headed straight to the park. As he walked he thought about a great number of things, but more specifically about the spectacle that was Helga G. Pataki. Now Arnold still wasn't certain what her whole role in the mole-skin situation was, but he wasn't stupid either. All facts pointed to Helga herself being Arnold's secret admirer. Of course, Arnold had made mistakes like that before, and had planned out an entire investigation before approaching Helga with the accusation. Hopefully, by the end of the day, he would have all the facts confirmed and would resolve things with Helga and his secret admirer, regardless of whether or not they were one in the same.

Arnold found an empty bench in the park, and sat down. He unwrapped his ice-cream bar, still cold thanks to the wind, and began to eat it. After a few minutes, he had worked the dessert down to a damp pop-sickle stick, and chewed on it as he unzipped his backpack. He had left all his school supplies at home, save a pencil or two, and at the moment his backpack was mostly empty. It held only what he needed for his investigation, a piece of paper containing the outline of his plans, both of the poem filled journals, and a Mr. Nutty bar in case he got hungry. He reached into the right pocket of his pants and pulled out his pocket watch, it was 8:30 if all went well, he could be done by four. He put his watch into the pocket of his coat.

Pulling the paper out of his backpack, he crossed the first step off the list.

"Get breakfast... check." He said to himself.

Step two was next, so Arnold repacked his things and deposited his ice-cream wrapped in the nearest trash-can before heading to the book-store. The lady at the checkout was new, so Arnold had no trouble working his charm on her, in a short amount of time, she had pulled up the record on all mole-skin purchases in the area.

"Well, I have good news and bad news..." The teenaged cashier said in a nasally voice, "The good news is that I've narrowed down the majority of our mole-skin sales to one individual..."

Arnold's face brightened.

"The bad news is their real name isn't given, nor is an address. The only indication of who the purchaser is, is the moniker 'The Kid' ... I can ask the owner why that is... but she's out of town until next Tuesday."

Arnold nodded, but a frown formed on his face.

"How about you leave me your number? That way I can call you when she gets back? Okay?" She smiled at Arnold until he smiled back.

"Okay..."

She handed Arnold a notepad, and he scribbled his number and signed his name.

"Is that all I can help you with..." She read his name of the pad and smiled, "Arnold?"

"Actually... may I purchase a mole-skin please?"

The cashier smiled and left the desk for a moment, when she returned she had a red mole-skin in her hand.

"This is the last one in stock... It's reporter style, folds over like this..." She opened and closed the book on it's horizontal binding in demonstration, "Is that okay?"

"That will work great!" Arnold handed over the six dollars he owed the cashier and excepted the journal eagerly. "Have a nice day!"

Arnold ran out the door, passing someone his height wearing a thick coat and a large hood. The person opened the door to the book store, than hesitated and closed it. Whoever they were, they walked down the street, leaving Arnold standing perplexed on the sidewalk. Then the wind bit, and he pulled his hood back over his head.

* * *

Arnold sat back on the park bench, his list's first two steps were crossed off, and he was no closer to finding the truth than he was an hour ago. He dropped his head into his hands, and groaned in frustration.

"Hey football-head."

'No! No no no no!' Arnold wasn't ready to face Helga yet.

"Hey Helga."

Arnold looked up and saw Helga in her typical clothing, despite the weather. She was visibly cold.

"How's it going?" Helga sat down next to Arnold, crossing her arms to keep herself warm.

"Why aren't you wearing a coat Helga?"

"None of your business h-h-he-head-boy!" Her teeth were clattering. Arnold took off his coat and handed it to Helga, it wasn't until after she took it that he realized what he had just done.

"Thanks Arnold." She put on the coat without a single growl, rude remark, or even a sneer. Arnold chose not to ask anything more about why she was dressed so inappropriately, instead turning the direction of the conversation to the weather itself.

"It sure is getting cold..."

"Suck it up Arnoldo. A man who can't handle the weather is practically a baby." She pulled the coat tighter around herself as she said this, and if Arnold wasn't so wary toward assuming, he could've sworn that she was smelling it.

"I just mean, the seasons must be changing." Arnold rebuffed, anger slightly evident in his tone.

"Well it is November, winter is only a footballs throw away."

Arnold nodded.

"So what are you out for today Helga?"

"Well I was doing some shopping for Miriam, but my plans were... uh, changed."

"How so?"

"None of your bee's wax! I'm sick of your pestering! See you at school weird-head-boy."

Helga stood up and walked away as angrily as she could. Hoping against hope that Arnold wouldn't ask for his jacket back.

"Helga?"

"Crimeny." Helga muttered under her breath.

"Its okay to admit that you were cold you know, being vulnerable to the weather isn't really a weakness." A smile crept over Helga's face, but she wiped it off before turning back to Arnold.

"Fine football-head! I didn't go to the store because I was cold! Are you happy?"

Arnold smiled at Helga as she walked away.

* * *

As soon as Helga was out of the park, she ducked into a familiar alley-way. Inside was a dumpster, and inside the dumpster was the new jacket her father had bought her last weekend.

It would take some explaining to her parents why the jacket smelled so bad... maybe she would wash it at a laundromat on the way home. Folding the coat, and putting it under her arm, she walked briskly to the nearest laundromat.

As she walked, her mind raced.

Had Arnold really not realized it was her who wrote the poetry yet? Did she really want him to figure it out yet? Did she want a man who was too stupid to figure it out?

'Nonsense!' she thought, she loved Arnold for much more than his intelligence! It was his wit, his never-ending kindness, his mystery, his suave! His jacket!

She hugged her body, embracing the warmth and comfort of Arnold's coat.

"Ohhh, Arnold." People began to stare at her as they passed, "My love for you is as boundless as your kindness! As all encompassing as your winter's coat! As- as- as deep as your... as your- Pocket?"

Helga had unconsciously shoved both her hands into the pockets of Arnold's jacket, and in doing so, her right hand brushed against something metal.

"What's this?" She pulled the golden object into the daylight, revealing it to be- "My beloved's pocket watch!"

Helga held the pocket watch up against her heart, but her brain quickly caught up with her heart.

"Oh no! He will be devastated when he finds it missing! I have to return it instantly!"

With that decision, Helga G. Pataki changed direction, and marched quickly back to the park. Only to discover, that Arnold had already left. She would just have to wait until tomorrow to return it.

Or she could walk to Arnold's house. No, that would be too kind, the last thing she wanted was for Arnold to suspect her heart's true intentions... or was it?

Now her mind raced again, and as she returned to the path that would take her to the laundromat, thoughts of a certain football head filled her brain.

What was Arnold doing at her favorite bookstore?

Why was he sitting in the park, with his backpack, on a day off from school?

Why had he given up his coat so easily, and why had he so clearly forgotten his pocket watch inside of it?

He hadn't had any 'outbreaks' since Tuesday, but his creative energy seemed almost gone. He only really seemed happy, when he was reading from Helga's pink poetry journal.

That made her blush.

* * *

Arnold crumpled up his plan and threw it off the roof of his room. He knew it was littering, but right now he didn't care. His whole investigation had fallen to pieces after he had left the bookstore. He was thankful for the fact that Helga hadn't brought up anything about the mole-skin, the last thing he wanted was to accuse her before he got all the pieces together.

But he had been so distracted, that he gave her his coat with his trusty pocket watch in it. He frantically scoured the whole park looking for it, before remembering he had put it in his jacket coat. By then, it was four o'clock, and he was too plum exhausted to continue with his investigation. Everything depended on the book store anyway! And it would be almost a whole week until he could do anything about it. He would have to change the whole course of his investigation.

"Lose something?" Gerald popped his head out from the door to the roof, a wad of crumpled paper in this hand. He tossed it to his best friend like it was a baseball, and Arnold caught it with minimal reaction.

"What's up with you lately man?"

Arnold shoved the paper back into his pocket and kicked a pebble off the roof.

"Listen Gerald... I know Mr. Simmons told you guys I was sick."

"Yeah," Gerald said, "He said you had kinda like a head cold or something."

"Not exactly," Arnold took a deep breath, "I'm crazy Gerald."

"Yeah, so?" Gerald stood on the edge of the roof, and let the wind blow against him. It almost felt like flying.

"I mean seriously Gerald, I'm not right in the head."

"Arnold, trust me man, if anyone knows how messed up that head of yours is it's me. You're always helping other people, no matter what the consequences are. You're kind to everyone, even Helga! But you know what man..."

Gerald stepped down and extended a wind-bit hand toward Arnold.

"And if that's the kinda crazy you are, well that's alright with me."

Arnold smiled at his life-long friend, and took his hand, wiggling his thumb against the thumb of his best bud. Together they walked back inside. On the roof across the street, Helga sat behind a few large trash-cans, rubbing the pocket watch gently with her thumbs.

* * *

Arnold sat sadly at his desk, exploring his pocket for the watch he would not find. Helga hadn't arrived at school yet, and the late bell was about to ring. He was nervous and worried. If Helga really had his pocket watch, wouldn't she be just as eager to part with it as Arnold was to have it returned? What if she had lost it? Or worse broken it!

His head dropped onto his desk. He didn't want to think about that.

Just when things seemed to be at their worst, and there was barely thirty seconds until the late bell rang, Helga G. Pataki walked into the classroom.

She was still wearing Arnold's jacket. The bell rang as she shut the door behind her.

"Please take a seat Helga-"

"Hold on, Hold on, don't get your sweater vest in a bunch." Instead of sitting down like Mr. Simmons had said, Helga walked straight to Arnold's desk.

"Lose something football-head?" Helga pulled her right hand out of Arnold's jacket's pocket, revealing the shiny gold watch. Helga smiled as she witnessed Arnold's face transform from one filled with fear and worry, to one made of utter happiness.

"Helga!" Arnold jumped out of his chair and pulled Helga into a warm hug. He whispered so only she could hear, "Thanks for bringing it back."

Helga's face grew redder than a tomatoes, but before the other kids could start laughing she threw Arnold off.

"Take it easy Arnoldo! Next time take better care of your stuff! You won't always have someone as kind as me to look out for you!" Helga walked over to her desk and took her seat, a smug smile formed on her face.

"If you'll excuse me class, I need to run some things through the copier. Gerald, make sure everyone behaves." Mr. Simmons left the class.

"What? Me?" Gerald asked in protest. To his dismay, the whole class began chanting teacher's pet. Gerald buried his face in his hands.

Arnold held his pocket watch in the center of his palm and admired it. On further inspection he noticed that all the details were correct, and the watch still functioned correctly, so Helga had not broken it... but something about it still seemed off...

"Where did you get the jacket Helga?" Stinky asked, drawing Arnold's attention away from the watch.

"Yes..." Phoebe said carefully, "It bears little resemblance to the new coat you showed me on Tuesday."

"It almost looks like..." Rhonda said, "A boy's jacket."

The whole classroom reverberated with 'ooooooohs'.

"Why are you wearing a boy's jacket Helga?" Harold asked teasingly. Helga looked over to Arnold, he had a knowing smirk on his face. That ticked her off. Then, a devious plan formed in her head, and an almost evil smile took over her face. Arnold saw this change in expression, and his mind filled with worry.

"Well," Helga began, "This jacket belongs to my..."

The whole class leaned in, ready for the mysterious owner's name to be revealed.

"...boyfriend." Helga said with certainty.

"Ow!"

For a moment everyone looked toward Arnold, who was sucking on his index finger. He smiled at them.

"Oh, I uh... jammed it in my book." Arnold lied. In reality, the news had shocked him so that he had bit down on his closest finger, drawing blood.

"Helga? A boyfriend? That's hyster- Histor- that's funny! HAHAHA!" Harold laughed, then Helga glared at him and he shut his mouth. While all the boys continued to snicker, the girls in the classroom seemed quite impressed.

"Really Helga, a boyfriend?"

"What's his name?"

"How old is he?"

"Is he a criminal?"

"Where did you to meet?"

"Is he in the room with us right now?"

"I won't say much..." Helga stood up on her desk, "For our love is sadly forbidden... I will only say this!"

Arnold slapped his hand to his face.

"He loves me just as much as I love him! And we will be together forever!"

Helga sat down, and all the class stood in awe of the fabled relationship. All except Arnold.

"Crimeny." He said, drawing a smile out of Helga. Just then Mr. Simmons returned, a stack of papers in his hand.

"Okay Class, today we're going to work on..."

* * *

Arnold was up at bat, he hadn't played baseball since before he was diagnosed, and it felt good to be hanging out with his friends again. He didn't even mind that Helga was at catcher, and as usual making fun of him.

"Haha, easy out!" She yelled, and the whole outfield moved closer to home. "Careful Football-head, wouldn't want you to hurt yourself trying to swing!"

Armold smiled and said quietly:

"You know Helga..." Stike one, "You think you'd be nicer to me..." Strike two, "Seeing as you seem to think I'm your boyfriend."

Arnold's bat collided dead center with the ball, sending it flying and earning the boy a home-run. Helga stood at home plate, speechless.

**I think I am going to write more chapters for this one. Hopefully it can stay the way it is if I just leave it at two, but I think I left plenty of plot-lines unsolved for further writing.**

**Hope you liked it!  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**Another chapter. I like this one more than the first one I think, but hey... who cares what I like :( enjoy!**

Arnold sat in the back of his grandfather's car. He had a lot on his mind, and the seven hour car ride was giving him plenty of time to think. Gerald had fallen asleep about thirty minutes after Arnold had started pretending to be asleep, so the only distraction to Arnold's thoughts was Grandpa singing along to the radio. He didn't mind that at all. Yesterday had ended quite sourly. After the baseball game, Helga had cornered Arnold in an alley. She warned him quite sincerely that if he ever told anyone the truth about the jacket, he would be eating out of a straw for the rest of his life.

"Comprendo?" By the time she had finished her threats, her fist had become dangerously close to his face.

"I won't tell Helga, but why did you make up that story?" He had asked.

Her response was something along the lines of: To mess with you football head... why else would I make up such a bogus story?

Arnold hadn't bought a word of it, and when he got home he was sure to outline every detail of the situation in his new mole-skin. He lifted his head up from the window slowly. Between keeping his eyes on the road and the singing, Grandpa was far too distracted to notice that Arnold was still awake. The boy pulled his journal out from under his seat and took a pencil from his pocket. He flipped the book open, and quickly went over all his data. On the first page, he had written a time-line of the previous few days, along with annotations containing important details such as his diagnosis, and the disappearances of both the black mole-skin, and his pocket watch. On the second page and third pages he had various samples of the handwriting in the two journals, compared with Helga's handwriting from his yearbook. There was a clear similarity between the two, but there were also several differences. For example, Helga's handwriting was less drawn out and darker, and the poetry handwriting was more eloquent and lengthy. This could be both the product of rushing, or freedom of expression, Arnold had no way of knowing for sure.

"We're fruits... we're fruits... numble butter skirts." Gerald muttered in his sleep.

Arnold stared at him strangely for a moment, then looked up front at his still distracted grandpa before returning to his mole-skin.

On the fourth and fifth pages, he had constructed a psychological study of Helga, and a probable profile of the poet. Needless to say, they didn't match up in the least.

"You excited short-man?"

Arnold jumped at the sound of his grandfather's voice, and quickly put his mole-skin away.

"Oh yeah... of course."

"It's almost 8:00 Arnold... there's a water bottle up here if you need it."

Arnold reached into his pocket and pulled out the bottle that contained his anti-psychotics. His grandpa handed him the water.

* * *

"Why are we going to this dumb play anyway?"

"Helga, I already told you. My old friend Margaret is in it, and I haven't spoken to her since before your father and I got married."

"Well why do I have to go?"

"I thought you liked Romeo and Juliet."

"I liked it when I did it! I don't want to see a bunch of no-talent hacks doing it!"

"Helga it's too late now, we're only four hours away."

"Just terrific." Helga propped her feet up on the dashboard, crossed her arms, and entered a staring contest with traffic. As usual, she couldn't shake a certain football headed boy from her mind. She admitted, it wasn't fair of her to tell everyone that Arnold's coat was actually some mysterious boyfriend's coat, but how could she resist! Now, even though they didn't know it, everyone thought that Arnold was her boyfriend! (technically) Just thinking about it made her sigh with love.

"Helga? Did you say something.

And so quickly, the love turned to anger.

"No mother I did not!" Helga threw her hands up in frustration, "Can't a girl just stare out the window in peace! My goodness..."

Helga returned to her thoughts of pure and boundless love.

* * *

"Wake up Gerald, we're almost there."

Gerald stirred and woke, the remnants of a deep sleep clouding his eyes. He turned to his friend Arnold, who looked wide awake.

"How long was I out?" He asked.

"A while," Arnold replied, "We're about thirty minutes away... Grandpa wanted us to be awake to see the sights."

"What sights Arnold? The only thing I see, is a bunch of buildings, some lights, and... whoa... those Neons sure are pretty."

Arnold returned his attention to the beautiful neon scenery. The lights were everywhere, there were signs, people made of neon tubing, even whole buildings covered entirely in the colorful lights!

"Now that sure is a new kind of beautiful..."

"What the heck are you talking about Arnold? This stuff isn't beautiful, it's awesome!"

The neon lights sure were a spectacle, and it was nice for Arnold to witness something he had only before seen in daydreams. And this was just the trip up! Arnold found it almost impossible to imagine how incredible their destination would be.

And that only saddened him a little. Maybe it wasn't that bad to have the imagination of a normal person? Sure he found it harder to create the worlds he used to almost live in, but now things in real life held that much more excitement! Where before he could just envision himself in a village made entirely of light, now he actually had to go there to take in the full effect!

One thing was certain, any plans he had to leave a boring life, had left with his legal sanity. And for that, he was thankful.

* * *

Helga stepped into the large theatre, and immediately found herself in awe. The curtains were closed at the moment, but its round sweeping figure was undeniable behind the dark blue cloth. The orchestra were tuning their instruments, and the sporadic, clashing sounds only added to the grandeur of the moment. Helga had expected some washed out old theatre, with broken seats and faded curtains. Surprised was too weak of a word.

"Mother... this is incredible."

"Whatever you say dear..."

They made their way to their seats, and neither of them were broken. Helga sat down, she felt like she was in a dream-like state of euphoria. The atmosphere was perfect for the production of all art... and she almost felt at home.

Lost in her moment of wonder, she hardly noticed the house-lights dim, and the curtains rise.

She didn't even notice Arnold sitting seven seats away.

* * *

Arnold looked up on stage, remembering his kiss with Helga as the current Juliet kissed the current Romeo... and an erratic tingling formed in the pit of his stomach. He had to draw his focus away from the stage to make it stop, but when he did, he found himself yearning for the sensation once again. It was the strangest feeling in the world, and he at first couldn't put a name to it.

He had to admit, he hadn't thought much about his stage-kiss with Helga. He had fallen so far into character he almost felt as if he himself were dead while it happened. Helga had also so bluntly put down the exchange during curtain call, that by the time Arnold got home, he had pretty much forgotten all about the kiss.

But now, seeing it reenacted by adults, and seeing how much shorter their kiss lasted then his... he almost felt nostalgic. And of course, that feeling in his stomach just wouldn't go away. Arnold began to smile.

Then the curtains closed, and the feeling all but vanished. After it had left, Arnold realized how much he had enjoyed experiencing it. He still could not put a name to the feeling, or what purpose it served. All he knew was that it was triggered by a memory of Helga, and thinking about her allowed it to return in some small measure.

He clapped with the rest of the audience, but his mind wasn't with them. He had drifted back to Hillwood, back to Helga, and he quickly realized that he missed her.

That was a first.

* * *

Arnold, Gerald, and Phil sat together in a tacky, family friendly, restaurant. Gerald and Grandpa were discussing the play.

Arnold drank down two glasses of water before talking. His mind was playing tricks on him again, it was the only explanation. He was almost certain he had seen Helga leave the theatre... but they were two states away from Hillwood, it wasn't just unlikely, it was almost impossible. Seeing her, or halucenating her, had brought the tingly feeling back a thousandfold. It was all he could do to keep himself moving. Gerald practically dragged him out of the theatre. On the short car ride to the restaurant, Arnold had sat in deep thought. There had to be some explanation to how Helga was making him feel. He had barely seen her as a person before his diagnosis, she had just been some walking embodiment of malevolence. Now he had feelings for her he had never had before. At the least, she was a good friend... and at the most she was something much, much more.

How would Helga know about the play? She didn't seem to be that big of a patron of Shakespeare. Sure, she had done an amazing job, but after their production she had seemed to forget all about Romeo and Juliet. And it wasn't like this show was easy access for the average citizen of Hillwood. Grandpa had won the tickets in a radio contest, they had been sold out for weeks, and weren't ever sold in Hillwood. The only explanation was that he was hallucinating. Which didn't make any sense, because he had taken his medicine only 8 hours ago.

"Ugh..." He rubbed his face with his hands as the waitress brought out the appetizer.

"What's wrong short-man? Didn't you enjoy the play?" Arnold's grandfather asked. Something had been troubling the boy since they left the theatre, and it did not go unnoticed by Phil.

"Oh, yeah... it was a good play Grandpa."

"Personally I liked you as Romeo better," Grandpa winked, "That guy up there was a little too uh, dramatic... if you know what I mean."

"I know what's wrong with him." Gerald said, smirking, "That play got him thinking of a special girl..."

"What!" Arnold was shocked that Gerald had figured it out, "What are you saying Gerald?"

"Oh I think we both know what I'm saying. Helga, oh Helga! Where for art thou Helga!" Gerald erupted into laughter, "I'm just messing with you man... I'm sure that kiss with Helga is the last thing you want on your mind..."

Arnold nodded, but for some reason he felt saddened by what Gerald had said. In the past few days, he had grown closer to Helga than he had ever been before, and now that he was miles and miles away, he realized how much she meant to him. Then, a wadded up napkin hit him in the ear. Looking in the direction the projectile came from, he saw Helga smile and wave.

"AHHHHH!" He screamed.

"What's wrong short-man!" Grandpa grabbed Arnold by the shoulders.

"D-do you guys see her too?"

"See who Arnold?"

Arnold pointed where he had seen Helga, but looking himself, he saw that no one was there. He was losing it. He was sure of it now. His insanity was frightening him more than ever before.

"Hey Arnold." Helga said. Arnold covered his eyes with his hands, but when Grandpa said 'hello!' to Helga, his fear slowly began to drift away.

"What's his problem?" Helga asked Gerald, the boy just shrugged.

"He's been acting a little strange since we left this play." Grandpa said.

"You guy's saw Romeo and Juliet too?" Helga smiled, "My mother and I were just there!"

"Well isn't that a coincidence!" Phil said excitedly. Arnold finally uncovered his eyes.

"Hi Helga." He said. He was pretty sure he wasn't crazy anymore, but Helga was acting a bit friendlier than usual.

"Hey... are you okay?" Helga's voice seemed to hold real concern.

"Yeah... I'm sorry, I just thought I had imagined you-"

Helga blushed.

"-I mean hallucinated you! I mean... uh, yeah." Arnold blushed too.

"Well, I am flattered Arnold... but I got to go. It was a pleasure talking to you all. See you at school Gerald... goodnight Arnold." She waved goodbye and walked back to her table... leaving both Arnold and Gerald in a stupor.

"Well... she seemed, nice. Almost human actually." Gerald stated, rubbing his chin.

"Yeah..."

"I'm sure she just didn't want to be mean to you in front of Grandpa." Gerald said, nudging the old man in the arm.

"If you say so Gerald..." Arnold looked over at Helga, and their eyes met. She started to blush, and sipped from the straw of her soda. Arnold broke the eye contact, and even though he didn't look at her again until she left the restaurant, he was thinking about her the whole time.

It was dark out by the time they started the long car ride home, and Arnold fell asleep shortly after they left the neon city.

* * *

When Arnold awoke, he was in his bedroom, and it was a little after three a.m. They had arrived back home at one am Monday morning. At first, Arnold was dismayed. The very idea of going to school in only a few hours was protested by his aching mind and body. But in staring up through his glass roof, he discovered the whole thing was covered in a blanket of snow. He was so relieved by the almost unarguable certainty that school would be closed, that he fell right back to sleep.

When he woke again, at nine thirty, he slowly realized that he was to face one major dilemma. He had no coat to wear. He quickly marched downstairs, in his usual clothing, plus a scarf, gloves, and snow boots.

"Hold on there short-man!"

"Oh crimeny..." Arnold muttered under his breath, he had hoped to avoid his grandparents for now, there would be no good explanation for why he wasn't wearing a coat. He would just have to be honest.

"Where's your coat?"

"I... uh, well I gave it to someone Grandpa."

"You what! Arnold, that coat was the only one in the house that fit you! It's bad enough Oskar eats all our food, but now you're giving him your clothing too!"

"No Grandpa," Arnold took a deep breath, "I didn't give it to Mr. Kokoshka... I gave it to Helga."

"Who's that, his sister?"

"No Grandpa... She's the girl from dinner last night."

A knowing smile crept onto Grandpa's face.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhh..." He said.

"Oh what?" Arnold asked, suspicion filling his voice.

"Oh nothing... you can give your coat to whoever you want..." Grandpa began to dig through an old closet by the door, "Whether it's your girlfriend, or Gerald, or your girlfriend."

"Helga isn't my girlfriend, Grandpa."

"Ah! Here we go."

Too Arnold's horror, Grandpa came out of the closest with an ancient looking pea-coat.

"This was mine, when I was in the Navy..."

"You were in the Navy grandpa?"

"Oh, maybe... or maybe I just thought that because the coat is a navy blue."

Arnold stared at his grandpa, while putting on his coat.

"Well, I'm going to go outside now Grandpa."

"Okay short-man."

Arnold started to walk outside, just as his fingers touched the door knob, his grandfather spoke.

"Just take your medicine first."

"Ugh... fine."

* * *

Helga sat on the park bench where she had met Arnold a few days prior, his coat kept her warm despite the snow and the freezing cold. She had hoped that for some reason Arnold would return to the park, but so far he hadn't. For some reason, she found herself acting more openly to Arnold... with the exception of a few incidents, she had almost started being nice to the boy. And if she wasn't imagining things, Arnold had seemed to almost- No, it was too soon to assume such things.

Sure, she still had no idea whether he had figured out that she was his secret admirer yet or not, but it seemed pretty obvious to her.

She was still incredibly afraid of rejection, but whatever hope there was... no matter how small, seemed to drive her closer, and closer, to finally telling Arnold the truth. Full out, the truth, in all of it's entirety.

"Hey Helga."

Helga looked up in anticipation. There was Arnold, with a pea-coat and a scarf on, holding two cups of hot chocolate. He looked almost like he had stepped out of a dream.

"You want some hot chocolate? I bought two, one for me and one for Gerald... but uh, he had to help his mom with something." He was lying. He had come into the park looking for Helga, and had bought the hot chocolate for her.

"Hey football head. Sure, I wouldn't want you to have wasted your money." The insults were still there, but there was no anger in Helga's voice. She almost sounded as friendly as she had the night before.

"Do you mind if I sit down?" Arnold asked politely.

"It's a free country buddy, sit down if you want." He did want to, so he sat down next to Helga.

For a few precious moments, they drank their hot chocolate in silence.

"Tomorrow I should find out who uh... who my... uh, poet is." Arnold stated.

"Oh..." Helga said, "I wonder who they might be..."

"Was that sarcasm Helga?" Arnold asked.

"Perhaps, all I'm saying, is that a boy as smart as you should've figured it out by now."

"I know..." Arnold said, "I have a pretty good idea of who it is... I just don't want to jump to conclusions... you think I'm smart?"

Helga ignored the question.

"You know what I think it is?" She asked.

"What?"

"I think you know perfectly well who it is... and you just don't have as much interest in them as you thought you would." Helga stared at the snow covered ground and kicked at it with her foot.

"Well Helga... you're right..."

Helga stiffened.

"... about one thing," Arnold clarified, "I am almost certain I know who it is... but I've fallen in love with that person, and if I'm wrong about them, then I have two women to worry about."

Helga's face turned red, if Arnold was saying what she thought he was saying... then that meant- Helga made a conscious decision in that instant, there was no going halfway anymore. She was going to show Arnold how much she cared.

"Oh don't compliment yourself Arnold..." Helga said, "There's only one woman on the earth who could put up with you."

Helga grabbed Arnold by the lapel of his pea-coat and pulled him right into her face.

"I love you Helga." Arnold said, and Helga couldn't help but gasp. Everything she had hoped for had come true. Arnold had done it, not only had he figured out that she was his secret admirer (with a little help of course) but he had also taken it upon himself to fall in love with her. For that, the boy deserved some sort of reward.

Helga practically squealed, and before Arnold could ask her if something was wrong, she kissed him dead on the lips.

**Hope you liked it! It could end right there pretty solidly I think... and yet...**

** ..even though my story just concluded it's major conflict, I wish to continue so badly! Don't you want to know why his pocket-watch seemed, "off"? Let me know if I should write more chapters, because I desperately want to. However the responsibility falls on the shoulders of you, the people. Who knows, maybe I'm a dying flame... and this will be the last good thing to come out of this story... Either way, I'm going to be away from my computer for a few days, so it will be a while nonetheless.  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**In case anyone was curious, the notebooks that the mole-skins in my story are based off of are actually called moleskines. I took some liberties to possibly avoid copyright maybe? I doubt anyone would really care though...**

Arnold lay comfortably in his bed, he wrapped his blanket tightly around himself. The warmth was beyond gratifying after such a long, yet fulfilling, day. He was almost too happy to fall asleep.

Almost. In only a matter of minutes he had drifted off to dreams of hot chocolate and Helga Pataki.

Arnold awoke when a solid foot landed squarely on his head.

"Oh, sorry Arnold." Helga bent down and cradled Arnold's head in her hand, "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

Arnold grabbed Helga's wrists, pulling her hands away from his face.

"What are you doing here Helga?" He wasn't unhappy to see her, just surprised. "I wanted to talk to you before school tomorrow." she said.

He wasn't holding her particularly tight, but the firm warmth of his hands was enough to make her blush. Arnold noticed this and blushed too.

"Well, uh what did you want to talk about?" Arnold asked, releasing his grip on Helga's wrist. They had talked to each for almost the entirety of the day. Arnold had learned alot about Helga, and he only loved her more for it. She had been the one who secretly saved the day on so many occasions. She had been the fake Cecile, she had even been the reason that his favorite hat went missing in the first place!

Needless to say, he was shocked that Helga had been responsible for so many of his life's memorable events, but he was also shocked that he hadn't noticed before. In the past, Helga had been nothing in his life but an oppressive shadow, in the last few months he had warmed up to her as a friend, and now that he loved her, he was upset with himself for taking so long to do so. Looking at her, Arnold could tell that Helga was thinking along the same lines.

"What are we going to tell everyone at school?" She eventually asked.

"About what?" The question had at first confused him, it wasn't until after Helga explained that the realization hit him. The only two people who knew about Arnold's newfound love for Helga, were sitting in his room.

"I never really thought about that..." Arnold answered honestly. One part of him wanted to proclaim his love for Helga to the heavens, the other part knew that both of them would receiving unending mocking from the likes of Harold and Rhonda.

Helga seemed to be thinking the same thing.

"How about we just tell them when they ask us?" Arnold asked, a plan forming in his head.

"Well what if they never do?"

Arnold shrugged.

"Then they never do." He smiled at her. A small smile formed on Helga's face as she stared at Arnolds.

"I don't know Arnold..." Helga's voice held a large amount of uncertainty, "Doesn't hiding our love basically mean that we're ashamed of it?"

"I'm not ashamed, are you?" Helga shook her head no without hesitation, "Well then we aren't... I just think this is just an easy way to avoid inconvenience for both of us. You know how the kids at our school can be... Have you ever had a spitball hit you in the back of the head? It isn't a fun experience..."

Arnold rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

"Oh Arnold... I'm sorry, I never meant to hurt you with those spitballs. I-I just-"

"It's okay Helga! They weren't all that bad." Arnold said, another rosy blush forming on his cheeks. Now that he was so used to having Helga's saliva on his lips, he didn't mind too bad having it on the back of his head. Of course thinking about that, made him blush even stronger in embarrassment.

"Oh Arnold, you're always so honest and kind to me..." She smiled, but her statement filled Arnold with a sudden sense of guilt. He didn't know why, but he could tell that she was wrong. He wasn't always honest with her... in fact he was hiding something very important... he just couldn't decide what it was.

Then it hit him. His illness, his mental instability. He could no longer go on without Helga knowing.

"Helga..." he grabbed her hands and caressed the back of her palm. A smile returned to her face as his left him, "I have to tell you something... something incredibly important."

A serious expression overtook Helga's smile, and she stared into Arnold's eyes as he spoke.

"Mr. Simmons told everyone I was sick... right?" Helga nodded, "I assume that everyone thinks that I'm better now..."

Helga's eyes widened.

"Are... are you dying?" Helga's eyes started to water, and Arnold felt even guiltier than before.

"No! No, no nothing like that." Helga's face almost buckled with relief, and Arnold squeezed her hands in a comforting gesture, "I'm... mentally unstable."

Helga blinked, confusion remained on her face.

"I... I dont understand Arnold.." She said as politely as she could.

"I'm crazy Helga! I have hallucinations, I take pills for them... I'm legally insane..."

Helga said nothing for what felt like hours, Arnold's eyes began to water as he feared the worst.

"So?" Helga finally asked, a childish joy present in the clearness of her words.

"So?" Arnold asked, "It doesn't scare you that I'm crazy? You aren't disgusted by the very thought of me?"

"Arnold... as far as I can tell, you've always been a little crazy, and as far as I'm concerned I love you in spite of your craziness."

Arnold began to smile.

"And maybe I love you because of it." Helga teased. She kissed him slowly on the cheek. The conversation was quickly drawing to a close.

"I think we should get to sleep soon Helga..."

"Okay, okay, scoot over shortman." Arnold stared at Helga in shock, but before he could argue she spoke again, "I'm just kidding Arnold... I'll see you tomorrow my love."

Helga tightened her boots before climbing back onto the snowy roof.

"Sleep well, beautiful." Arnold said, amazed at the girly romance of his own words. he turned back into his bed, wrapping his blanket tightly around him once more. As they slept, the finite love in both their hearts warmed the endless night.

* * *

Arnold sat quietly at his desk, scribbling away in a mole-skin his girlfriend had bought him a few months ago. He had filled out most of the pages himself, but everynow and again a poem of Helga's would grace a page or two. And as for what he put on the pages, he had been doodling it it, mostly, but every now and again something worth elaborating upon would come out of his pencil. Currently, he was finishing the details on a moustache with tennis shoes. The goofiness of the drawing made him smile. Then a spitball landed squarely on the back of his head.

He turned, and saw Helga G. Pataki laughing girlishly behind an outstretched hand, childish glee flashing in her eyes.

Arnold smiled at her, and sighed. That was one thing she wouldn't grow out of, no matter how deep their relationship grew.

Then the bell rang, and everyone left for the year. Summer vacation was upon them, and the students at P.S. 118 prepared for months of never ending fun. Arnold met Gerald right outside the school, the tall haired boy was almost blatantly staring at Phoebe.

"Whatcha staring at Gerald?" Arnold asked, knowing full well the answer to his question.

"Oh... nothing, man... just-"

"Phoebe?"

"Yeah, man..." sadness was clear in Gerald's eyes. He had been pining for the girl for weeks now, but he had yet to gain the courage to ask her out.  
Arnold smiled, Gerald had always been a self proclaimed ladies man, but with Phoebe it was different. He showed a respect to her that he didn't show other girls. He hadn't belittled her by asking her out in the way he would other girls, and he didn't show her disrespect by gawking. He would almost be a secret admirer, if it weren't for the fact that Phoebe obviously liked him back. Unfortunately for Gerald, he was one of two people who had no clue that they both liked each other.

Helga walked out from the crowd and stood next to Phoebe, she waved slightly at Arnold, and Arnold waved back. Neither Gerald nor Phoebe noticed.

"Gerald, I have an idea." Arnold spoke up.

"What?" Gerald asked, honestly curious.

"Let's walk Phoebe and Helga home, that way you can talk to her." Gerald smiled.

"Really Arnold? You'd walk with Helga for me?" Arnold faked a frown.

"For you Gerald, I would even kiss her."

Gerald shivered, then walked over to Phoebe. Arnold followed, chuckling at his friend's vanity as the boy checked his breath and adjusted his afro.

"Hey Phoebe." Gerald said as they arrived. His voice was shaky.

"Hello Gerald." she said smiling, the two stood staring at each other without speaking for a few minutes. Arnold and Helga watched on, laughing at the spectacle of their closest friend's obvious infatuations.

"You wanna.. me uh, Arnold... That is Arnold and me to walk you guys... home?"

"You honestly expect me to walk home, with football-head!" Helga threw up her hands in protest, "C'mon Phoebe, you can talk with tall hair boy later..."

Helga stormed off in the direction home, and Arnold did his best not to laugh.

"I'll talk to her." Arnold followed her. Phoebe and Gerald started talking, and began trailing a few yards behind Helga and Arnold.

"Why can't we be friends Helga?" Arnold asked mockingly.

"I know you too well to be your friend Arnold. Plus it's so hard to be friends with someone you've seen naked." she joked.

"You've never seen me naked Helga."

"How do you know?" she winked at him.

"That's really creepy, Helga." Arnold teased.

Helga just shrugged. Her hand ached deperatley to grasp Arnold's, but in the past few years hiding their love had become... a sort of game, childish and immature yes, but usually fun. Only in these instances did it become annoying, when she hadn't even touched Arnold for hours, and he was walking so close...

"You want to come over for dinner tonight?" Arnold asked quietly, "Grandma's throwing an out of season-seasonal banquet."

"What does that mean?" Helga asked. Arnold's grandmother sure was strange, but Helga had grown to love her as her own. Love didn't explain the old woman's unusual behavior though, and it often took a direct translation from Arnold for her to even begin to understand.

"Well since it's late spring, Grandma thought it would be interesting to have a meal consisting of foods most often found during the fall. She's calling it our 'Fall Feast'"

"Ah, well Arnold, I would be delighted to come to enjoy one of your family's crazy meals." Helga landed a quick kiss on his cheek, luckily neither Gerald nor Phoebe noticed.

Before the four of them noticed, they had arrived at Helga's house, where Phoebe was planning on staying until her father picked her up in an hour or two.

"Arnold!" Gerald called suddenly, motioning for his friend to join him as Phoebe walked up toward Helga. Helga stood, arms crossed, tapping her right foot impatiently at Phoebe.

"What's up Gerald?" Arnold asked, worried about what his friend was about to propose.

"I invited Phoebe to the fall feast."

"Gerald you told me you couldn't make it tonight!" Arnold was greatly disappointed. He had been looking forward to a long dinner with his girlfriend. Now, he would have to explain to Helga that she couldn't come... and that would break his little heart. He knew she'd understand, but it didn't make letting her down any less painful.

"I just didn't want to eat your grandma's cooking... but I knew Phoebe wanted me to ask her to dinner, and it was the first thing that came out of my mouth! You don't mind, do you?" Gerald asked, love blinding him from Arnold's reluctance.

"Gera-"

"One more thing... Phoebe can't go unless Helga goes too... her dad's orders."

Well that wouldn't be too bad. Arnold and Helga would just have to pretend that they hated each other... again.

"Sure Gerald." Arnold sighed, so much for a nice night with Helga.

"You positive man? I don't want to make you do something you aren't comfortable with..." but Gerald was already walking back to Phoebe. While Phoebe expressed her excitement, Helga looked at Arnold with suspicious eyes. The boy shrugged, and Helga shook her head in frustration.

Arnold and Gerald waited outside as Phoebe called and her father, and the girls prepared themselves for dinner. Kicking rocks at each other served to pass the time until the two young ladies returned.

It took the crew a few minutes to arrive at Arnold's boarding house, when they opened the door they were met by ten or so stampeding pets.

"Hey shortman!" Arnold's grandpa walked to the door from the kitchen, "Guests for dinner?"

"Yeah, sorry Grandpa..." Arnold didn't bother explaining the surge in dinner guests, "I know it's last minute-"

"Nonsense! Oscar's family is in Las Vegas anyway." that was something grandpa was clearly happy about, "So we'll have Gerald... And uh, Phoebe..."  
Grandpa stared at Helga for a moment, confusion furrowing his brow.

"Helga, Grandpa." Arnold quickly said.

"Oh that's right! Arnold's girlfriend Helga, sorry sweet-heart, I didn't recognize you with that frown on your face."

Helga just blinked in reply. Neither she nor Arnold anticipated Grandpa revealing the secret to Phoebe and Gerald. Then, Gerald burst out into uncontrollable laughter, and Phoebe stifled giggles behind an open hand.

"You? And Helga! That's hilarious!" Gerald slammed his palm into Arnold's back.

"It is quite humorous." Phoebe said to Helga. The two continued to laugh for a few moments, and then they noticed the look on Arnold and Helga's faces.

"I mean..." Gerald began, "That is ridiculous right?

Arnold rubbed the back of his head and Helga rubbed the floor with the tip of her shoe.

"Helga?" Phoebe asked, then realization hit her, "No... no way."

"Me an uh... well Helga and I have been dating since before Christmas." Arnold finally said, a blush forming on his face. Helga nodded in agreement at Phoebe. Gerald looked like he was about to faint.

"I need to sit down..." He stalked off like a zombie into the dining room, Phoebe followed him.

"I can't believe it..." She said as she walked away, leaving Arnold and Helga alone at the door.

"Well they handled that better than I thought..." Arnold said.

"They may just be in shock." Helga added, only half jokingly.

Together the two walked into dinner, ready to face the disbelief of their two best friends. They sat in silence for a few minutes as Grandma prepared the last bits of their strange meal. There was pumpkin pie, turkey, candy corn, and various other autumn related foods. After Gerald stomached a handful of Halloween candy, his head seemed to clear slightly, and he spoke.

"Why didn't you tell us?" he asked, pointing an accusing turkey leg at the couple.

"You, uh, never asked." Arnold smiled and chuckled, but Gerald's expression remained fixed in an betrayed state.

"I can't believe you! All this time, I was trying to get with Phoebe, I thought you were helping me, and in reality, you were just hanging out with Helga!"

"Yeah you guys-" Phoebe began, "Wait.. you're trying to get with me Gerald?"

She blushed. Gerald blushed too, and stumbled over his words as he tried to explain himself. Then Grandma pulled out a large accoridan.

"I feel that love is in the air tonight!" She almost cackled. Without a second thought, she played a nasty tune on the accordian and began singing in what might've been real Italian.

The kids all cringed, but Grandma was right.

"How on earth did you fall for Helga, Arnold?" Gerald asked, "She's mean to you, she still shoots spitballs at you! And she's Helga Pataki!"

Helga frowned at him.

"No offense Helga," He quickly added. The girl glared in his general direction. "When did this even start!"

Arnold tried his best to explain the whole affair, beginning with his diagnosis. In the process he revealed his illness to Phoebe, but he wasn't afraid of people knowing anymore. She accepted it quite readily, as had Gerald and Helga, and Arnold continued the story. By the time he had finished, Phoebe and Gerald excepted the permanance and reality of Arnold's love for Helga, and vice versa.

After dinner, Gerald offered to walk Phoebe home, and Arnold and Helga climbed up to the roof.

"Well that was an interesting turn of events..." Helga said as Arnold laid down a picnic blanket. Usually their weeks ended like this, star-gazing for what seemed like minutes over the course of a few hours.

"I think it went pretty smoothly, seeing as how neither of us expected anything that happened tonight to happen..." Arnold said, "Well except for Grandma's singing maybe."

Arnold kissed Helga on the cheek, taking the girl by surprise.

"What was that for?" Helga asked blushing, it was rare that Arnold instigated any romantic action.

"Oh the kiss? Because I love you."

**More to come.**


	5. Chapter 5

**The inevitably mediocre, short, and unfortunately premature conclusion. :( **

Arnold P. Shortman frowned at his bad luck. He had been wrestling with his youngest son, Mickey, and had bumped into a coffee table. The pain wasn't terrible, but the sound of breaking glass forced him to stop entertaining his son. Digging his hand into the pocket of his worn jeans, he was horrified to find his pocket watch broken.

"Hey, I'll be right back, okay?" He had told his son before walking up the boarding house steps to his bedroom. He walked over to his desk, and dropped the watch carefully on the table. It was broken beyond his level to repair. He started taking it apart piece by piece, separating the broken parts from the unbroken ones, when suddenly a rolled up piece of paper fell out of the back of the watch.

He had no clue what it was.

Looking around the room for no apparent reason, he debated unrolling the paper for several moments. His heart was racing as he pulled it open, revealing a page length of words.

It read:

'Dear Arnold,

I'm not sure if you'll ever be able to figure out who wrote those poems for you, so in case you don't before this watch breaks, I wrote you the truth on this piece of paper.

My name is Helga G. Pataki, and for the past few years I have been madly in love with you. I know this may come as a shock to you Arnold, seeing as how I so often bully you, and bring you down... I can't explain why I do those things.

Maybe it's because inside, I'm afraid. I'm afraid that you may not like me if you knew how I felt. I'm afraid you might not like the real me.

Well hopefully my fear will have been resolved by now, and we will be living happily together in my mansion. Arnold and Helga Pataki.

However, if it doesn't work out for us Arnold... I want you to know, that I'll always love you, no matter what.

I'll see you soon I hope, for you and for me.

Goodbye for now,

-Helga.'

Arnold smiled, his eyes slightly watery with emotion. Pulling the top drawer of his desk open, he retrieved a familiar pink journal, and a piece of tape. Opening the book to the only open page, the back cover's interior, he taped the letter down.

"Dinner's ready Shortman." Arnold's 99 year old grandfather called from downstairs. Arnold closed the journal and put it back in the drawer, before heading downstairs.

The dining room table was all but empty, only Mickey was seated, a big smile on his face.

"Where is everybody Mickey?"

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" A chorus of voices yelled from behind him. Arnold felt two slender arms wrap around him. His wife leaned her chin on his shoulder.

"Happy Birthday Arnold... I love you."

Arnold's heart swelled with a warmth and a joy the likes of which he had only felt on the respective birthdays of his three children. Turning around, he kissed his wife on the lips, earning an applause from all his other friends.

Gerald was there, Phoebe was there, all the tenants, Harold and Stinky and their wives, his loving grandparents, and Arnold's oldest son and his only daughter. Looking back at his loving wife, a smile crept onto his lips.

"Call me crazy..." He began, "But I think I might be the luckiest guy in the world."

Helga held him close and laughed.

"Happy Birthday Football head."


End file.
